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Minseok pushes the front door open, Jongin’s body slouched against his side, a heavy and warm weight. He’s brought Jongin to his own apartment instead of Jongin’s dorm room. Jongin’s roommate is away for the winter break and Minseok didn’t like the thought of leaving Jongin alone when this drunk. It’s better to have him here, where Minseok can keep an eye on him.
Jongin is a collaborative drunk, listening to Minseok and following him obediently, however unsteadily. He hasn’t been very chatty, not since they left the bar. Before, with the others, he had been talking and laughing, sipping beer and downing shots, eyes turning glassy and smile turning mellow the more the alcohol kicked in. Now, apart from mumbled comments on the coldness of the weather as they walked, he’s been mostly silent, letting Minseok lead him along, leaning onto him. Sleepy most like, Minseok supposes, the euphoria of intoxication probably having phased down into drowsiness.
Jongin’s face rests heavily against Minseok’s temple as Minseok brings them inside, his cheek warm even though the air is indeed pretty cold tonight, his breath warm too as it blows lightly onto Minseok’s skin.
Minseok makes him shed his jacket, toe out of his shoes, kneeling down to help when it seems like one had had the laces tied up too tightly, and manoeuvres him towards the couch, guiding him down onto it gently.
Jongin sinks heavily on it, his head lolling onto the backrest.
“How are you feeling?” Minseok asks, watching him closely.
“Dizzy,” Jongin mumbles, voice thick and scratchy from the alcohol and the salt he had licked off the back of his hand.
“Nauseous?”
Jongin shakes his head slowly. There’s a light flush dusting his cheeks and the bridge of his nose, his eyelids hanging heavy over his glassy eyes, and Minseok can’t stop the affectionate hand that comes up to gently card through Jongin’s hair, pushing his long bangs away from his forehead.
Affection. It’s always that. This obstinate, treacherous affection. Always threatening to push itself a little too far, rise a little too close to the surface.
“You shouldn’t have drunk so much.”
The hand has strayed, sliding down to tuck a few strands behind Jongin’s ear, and coming to rest on Jongin’s cheek.
Jongin turns into the touch, eyes fluttering closed. “Wanted to.”
It has a zing of warmth searing through Minseok’s chest and he takes his hand back. Jongin’s eyes blink open again.
“You’ll regret it in the morning.”
“You’re fine.”
A smile curls Minseok’s lips, because Jongin is just so endearing, even when drunk. “I’m older than you,” he teases. “More experienced.”
Jongin’s brow furrow, deep lines indenting his skin. “NotーNot much older,” he protests, shifting restlessly to sit upright on the couch. “Not. I have experience too.”
Minseok chuckles. The affection laps dangerously at the edge. He turns away. “Wait here, I’ll get you some water.”
He pulls himself together as the tall glass fills with water, a few cold droplets landing on the back of his hand, and he shuts off the tap, leaving the kitchen to walk back to the couch.
“Here,” he says, handing the glass to Jongin.
Jongin obediently takes it and drinks half of the water in one gulp, so quickly Minseok worries about how cold it is. When Jongin finishes the other half, Minseok takes the glass back and leaves it on the coffee table. Dampness clings to Jongin’s lips.
It’s half past three and Minseok should get Jongin to bed, let sleep do some of the work, make Jongin’s certain hangover at least a little more bearable tomorrow.
“Come on,” he says and lets his hand stray again, to Jongin’s hair, lets it card through it again. “Let’s get you to bed.”
Jongin closes his eyes again and lets loose a long breath. Then, he reaches up and takes Minseok’s hand in both of his own, moving it down to press its palm to his cheek.
“You’re so good to me, hyung.” It’s said quietly. A mumbled murmur.
Minseok blinks, caught off guard, but amusement washes over surprise quickly at the thought of the alcohol making Jongin feel affectionate. He smiles and tries to pull back his hand, but isn’t able to, Jongin’s grip gentle, delicate even, but secure.
Jongin presses his cheek harder into Minseok’s hand, the corner of his lips brushing against it. “You’re so good to me.”
“Of course, I want to be,” Minseok says, indulgent, and his smile takes on an only slightly wry tilt as he does, because it’s true, he wants to be, but for more undisclosed, selfish reasons than just wanting to be a good hyung. “Get up, now. You’ll feel better after some sleep.”
But Jongin doesn’t move, doesn’t listen this time. He shakes his head as his brow furrows again, and doesn’t let go of Minseok’s hand. “Hyung, you’re good to me,” he repeats, firmer. “You’re good for me.”
Minseok pauses, confused now, baffled even, not knowing what to make of the situation. He peers at Jongin’s face to try and understand what prompted this, but comes up with nothing. “Jongin,” he tries, hesitates.
Jongin opens his eyes, meeting Minseok’s gaze directly, and they’re still glassy, but also bright… resolute. “I like you, hyung.”
Minseok’s heart gives a small lurch in his chest, but he’s quick to shake it off, and makes himself smile. “Well, that’s good to know,” he says, keeping his tone light, keeping it playful. “I like you, too, Jongin.”
Jongin’s brow furrows deeper, like he didn’t like that answer, like it was the wrong one to give. “No,” he insists, shaking his head again, forcefully. “No, hyung.” His grip tightens around Minseok’s now limp hand. “I like you. I like you.”
Minseok stills, every muscle of his body going motionless, the whole world along with them, as Jongin’s words hit him, heavy and hard like a ton of bricks.
Jongin barrels on, with his thick voice and his bright eyes. “I do. It’s true, hyung. I like you. I like you so much. And I can’tーcan’t keep it to myself anymore. Have to say it. To tell you. Everybody knows, hyung. But you.”
Minseok stares, at a complete loss for words, tongue numb in his mouth. He did not expect this. He did not expect any of this.
Jongin’s face slowly falls the longer the silence hangs between them, and he draws into himself, his grip on Minseok’s hand slackening until it slips out and falls back at Minseok’s side.
“Oh.”
It comes out small, all the fervour having left Jongin’s voice, and Minseok swallows, trying to get his useless mouth to work. “Jongin,” he finally manages to get out, the word tripping over his still numb tongue, but before he can say anything else, Jongin catches him off guard again.
“Is there someone else? M-More experienced.”
“What?”
Jongin’s lower lip quivers. “There is, right? They allーthey all sayー”
“Who’s they?”
“The others. They all make fun of me. Call me hopeless. Theyーthey say I’m such an idiot for not seeing itーbut how can I see it if all I see is you?”
Minseok’s mind spins, trying to piece Jongin’s words together, the who and what and when, but nothing sticks like the wetness gathering in Jongin’s eyes, making them glisten in the muted light of Minseok’s living room lamp.
Jongin looks away with a small, gutted noise from his throat. “I think I’m going to be sick.”
Minseok’s stomach twists with concern. “Are you? Do you wantー”
But Jongin is pushing off the couch, swaying when he stands upright. “I’m going home.”
Alarm starts to set in, Minseok feeling the situation slipping through his fingers at a too rapid speed, and he reaches out to stop Jongin. “Jongin, wait!”
Jongin shakes his head, turning away before Minseok’s hands can touch him. “No, hyung. IーI gotta. I’m sorry. Just. Just. Let me.”
“Jongin,” Minseok grabs Jongin’s shoulder, turning him back around, and his chest constricts when he sees the tear tracking down Jongin’s cheek, the ache so terrible it steals the breath right out of him, having never, ever, wanted to see Jongin hurt, let alone be the cause of it.
Helpless, desperate, Minseok does the only thing he can think of. He grabs Jongin’s sweatshirt with his hands and surges forward, pressing their mouths together into a short, firm kiss, Jongin’s gasp getting lost in between them.
Jongin looks stunned when Minseok pulls back, glassy eyes wide open, and his lips parted. Minseok now knows exactly how soft they are. He didn’t think they could be softer than what they already look. But they are.
“Hyung…” Jongin breathes, stares.
Minseok’s heart is pounding in his chest. “Will you stay here? Please?”
Jongin blinks, his lashes fluttering, but not another tear spills. “W-What about that someone?”
Minseok shakes his head. “There is no someone, Jongin.”
There is only you, is the more accurate truth.
At his answer, a smile blooms slowly on Jongin’s face, spreading until his eyes crinkle with it, and the tension seeps out of Minseok’s body from the relief.
“Hyung.”
“We’ll talk more in the morning, okay?”
Jongin nods, and follows obediently as Minseok leads him to the bedroom, makes him change out of his clothes into clean ones from his own closet, and gets him into the bed.
“Sleep now.” Minseok whispers, after draping the covers over him.
Jongin’s eyelids droop with sleep, but the smile is still on his lips, and he takes Minseok’s hand in his as he closes his eyes. “I like you, hyung.”
The next morning, Minseok sits at his table, sipping coffee and barely tasting it.
His mind is spinning in circles, stuck on last night, so surreal he almost can’t believe it happened. And yet it did, every moment so vivid that he can see it and feel it as if it was happening right now.
Jongin returns his feelings, he said so himself, I like you, hyung, he said, and repeated, one, two, three, four, five times, and then one more before drifting off. It has Minseok’s heart swelling in his chest, the memory of it, the still-frame of Jongin’s fraught and fierce and brave face, the swift passing by it of his mind on its endless circles.
And while Minseok would love nothing more than to give in to the exhilarating feeling, he can’t help but worry, because the reason why last night even happened in the first place is Jongin was drunk, and now, the morning after, that could result in so many things.
Jongin might be upset that he revealed his feelings since he had kept them a secret until yesterday. He might even regret the whole thing since it happened while he was too intoxicated to think clearly. Not to mention the possibility that Jongin might not even remember anything. And what should Minseok do then? Pretend like nothing happened? Say something? Minseok’s heart shrinks just at the thought of Jongin forgetting what happened. He would never want to force anything on Jongin, but at the same time it wouldn’t be right to not let Jongin know. It wouldn’t be fair, to either of them. But how would he even approach the topic?
The bedroom door opens, pulling Minseok out of himself, and a spike of anxiety surges through Minseok’s chest when Jongin steps through, still in Minseok’s clothes.
Their eyes meet immediately and a shy smile pulls at Jongin’s lips. A good sign, maybe. Minseok holds his breath as Jongin starts padding his way over to the table, sitting down on the other chair, across from Minseok.
“Good morning, hyung,” Jongin greets quietly, putting his hands into his lap.
It’s the first time Minseok sees him in the morning right after waking up. Hair rumpled. Eyes puffy. It makes him look soft and makes Minseok want him to stay.
Minseok swallows and gives Jongin a smile of his own. “Good morning. How are you feeling?”
“Good. My head hurts a little, but I already took the medicine you left, and I drank the water,” Jongin nods.
“That’s good.”
“Thank you for taking care of me, hyung.”
“Of course.”
Silence falls between them. Minseok should say something, but he doesn’t know how to go about this. Jongin doesn’t seem to have forgotten, but he doesn’t seem to remember either. Minseok needs to confirm, to really know, but this is so scary. So much is on the line.
Then, Jongin softly clears his throat, and looks up at Minseok, his eyes pinning him in place. They’re bright again, but it’s a different kind now. They look nervous, and hopeful. “So… about last night...”
Minseok almost loses his breath. The suddennes, and directness, of the approach almost jarring. He opens his mouth, and it takes a moment before he can speak. “Last night…” he repeats. “How… what do you remember?”
A blush rises on Jongin’s cheeks, his eyes jumping away before returning to Minseok. “Me… saying that I like you…”
Minseok’s heart jumps at hearing the words again. He licks his lips, dreading what he has to ask next but needing to make sure. “And… do you regret that?”
Jongin is quick to shake his head, his brow furrowing the same way as last night, deep and indenting and like Minseok said the wrong thing again. “No. It’s the truth. I told you, hyung.”
Minseok lets loose a heavy breath, his shoulders sagging as the weight that had sat on them until that very moment finally lifts.
Jongin’s eyes drop to the table, the corners of his mouth tilting downwards. “I remember you kissing me, too… do you regret that?”
The question startles Minseok, making him straighten up in his chair. “No!” he blurts, the word all but rushing out of his mouth. “No, I don’t regret it.”
Jongin looks back at him, the corners of his mouth lifting again slowly. “Then… does that mean you like me too, hyung?”
And here it comes. The moment of truth. But Minseok finds it’s not so scary anymore. He holds Jongin’s gaze as he nods. “I do. Have for a while actually.”
A bright smile breaks full out on Jongin’s face and suddenly he’s pushing off his chair and leaning across the table to press their mouths together. It’s a firm and short kiss, just like the one from last night, a little off centre because of the angle, but enough to make Minseok’s mind reel, both from the suddenness of it and the fact that it’s actually happening, and happening again.
Jongin pulls away with a happy giggle and sits back down. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet so this will do for now.”
Minseok blinks, the softness of Jongin’s lips lingering on his own like an impression, and then he breathes out a chuckle. “Yes.”
“For now,” Jongin stresses.
“Yes,” Miseok says again with another, louder chuckle, indulging and wanting to be.
Jongin’s nod is a pleased one.
Minseok has never felt so warm.
“Do you have anywhere to be today?” he asks.
Jongin shakes his head.
“Good. You’re spending it with me, then. Let’s start with breakfast. Are you hungry?”
Jongin smiles, looking happy and gorgeous and, finally, incredibly, exhilaratingly, Minseok’s.
“Starving.”